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Friday, March 30, 2012

It's Friday again, and the weekend is so close we can taste it. :) Today is the last day for the Destiny Redeemed book tour and it's ending with a bang over at Salacious Reads. Thanks to all the bloggers who've been so wonderful on this tour! And I'm over at the very talented Tracey Kitt's blog doing an interview with her, so check that out too!

This week has been research week for me, and I have to admit I love this kind of week. I've had my nose in the books (well, internet too) for Blood Spirit and a new book for my alter author ego (the non-romance one). That's a blockbuster idea, but it's in the very early stages of infancy. Blood Spirit, on the other hand, is set to begin with the new month.

I also spent my time trying to find models for the covers of the rest of the Sons books. Dante, Ramiel, Thane, and Nico are all set, but Sion...he's been impossible to capture. I've complained about the photo stock sites before here, so you know how I feel about them, but damn, is it that difficult to offer a good looking man with blond hair? I used to know someone who claimed that there were very few good looking blond men. That's stupid, and I should've told her she was a chowderhead. I've seen many good looking blonds in my life. Dated a bunch of them. However, it seems there's a dearth of them on stock photo sites. I have one I'd love to use, but Talina and I are still working on him. We'll see...

Last, but not least, the date for Blood Betrayed's release has been settled. May 24 my newest baby will enter the world. And I've got a bunch of bloggers and reviewers who will be helping me spread the word that day about my new release. Thanks to all of them! I'll be talking more about that in the coming weeks, so keep an eye out for that.

I have an easy day at work (all tests today), it's payday, and tonight's the season finale of Spartacus. Do they follow the history, or will there be the historically incorrect but possibly interesting showdown where Spartacus kills Glaber? I don't know, but it could be good. I'll be there, taking an hour out of researching for it (or an hour out of celebrating my Megamillions half a billion win).

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

I'm over at All Things Books today on the Destiny Redeemed book tour, so I've invited author Avril Ashton to the blog to talk about her brand new release coming out today. Release day is so exciting! So without further ado, here's Avril.

I’d like to thank the generous Gabrielle Bisset for having me on her blog today. This being release day for me and all, please forgive the shaky typing. Does it ever get old the jitters and butterflies?

No.

Today’s release is especially nerve-wracking as it’s my first M/M piece. Though I’ve pubbed another M/M short before, that was included in an anthology, buffered by other talented authors.

Now I’m on my own and seriously the heat, it burns.

I took my concerns to Mr. A, who really should get a medal or something for holding my hand and talking me off ledges.A saint. I told him my fears and he asked this: What do your readers expect from you?

I had to pause for a minute and really think. What do readers expect from me? What have I put out so far that keeps them buying my books and reading? Clearly there’s an expectation of some kind, otherwise why would you buy, right?

Here’s my thoughts on it and what I ultimately told Mr. A. From the author’s viewpoint, I think readers buy my books with an expectation of an awesome read, a way more than necessary helping of the bumping of uglies, funny, strong, and decisive heroines, and delicious men willing to take them on a ride.

That what the author thinks. Naturally, I may be off my bloody rocker with that one.

From the reader’s viewpoint, I expect well written stories from my reads. Stories with heroines with backbones, with men willing to risk it all, and a way more than necessary bumping of the uglies.

Stay tuned for verdict on whether or not the reader and author in me has our needs met.

Make Me Burn- BLURB~It’s been months since Wes Dumont laid eyes on Jayce Santana. Since Jayce kissed him and then left town without a word. Wes tried hard to put the tattered pieces of his heart back together, but another failed relationship makes it clear he’s nowhere near over Jayce. Now Jayce is back, once again tilting Wes’ world on its axis and setting his blood boiling. All the anger and resentment doesn’t hide the hunger, but Wes has been burned before and he’s grown wary of Jayce’s intentions.

Jayce has been running, from Wes and himself, denying the future he sees in the depths of Wes’ eyes. His past still haunts him, but he’s back, ready to fight. Ready to claim Wes the way he should have. Only Wes isn’t making things easy. Both men just may go up in flames before Jayce convinces Wes he’s playing for keeps.

EXCERPT-PG17 *Some language*

“Well. Well. Well.”

Wes’ eyelids fluttered at the drawl. “Hmm. What…” He stretched achy arms over his head and blinked the sleep out of grainy eyes. “Where—”

“Are you?” The disembodied voice moved from above his head to further away as someone straddled his midsection. “You fell asleep on the couch. Fully dressed.” Laughter warred with the censure in his tormentor’s voice. “That Italian is wearing you out, is he?”

“Ever!” Wes’ eyes flew open. “Stop calling him that.”

His best friend’s green eyes danced with mirth. She cupped his jaw and leaned over to press a kiss to his lips. “What should I call him?”

“You know his fucking name.”

“Dominic. Oh, Dominic,” she sang shrilly. “He must be something else the way he leaves his stamp on you.”

Wes refrained from threatening to ring the little troublemaker’s neck. “What stamp and why aren’t you with whatshisface?” He rose up on his elbows and winced at the pain in his lower back and his…damn, the right side of his neck burned.

Ever sat up. “Simon’s busy, and I’m talking about that huge-ass hickey on your neck. I think it can be seen from space.” She chortled at her attempt at funny.

“What hickey?” He brought a hand up to cup his neck, the area that stung. The area where Jayce… “Oh, God!” Wes bucked. Ever scrambled off his lap and he leaped off the couch, running for the downstairs bathroom. Flicking on the overhead light, Wes crowded the mirror, turned his neck, and squinted.

The hickey stood out bright red on his neck, roughly the size of a quarter.

“That bastard. The fucking bastard, I’ll kill him.” Shame washed over him at how quickly he’d succumbed to the heat of Jayce’s arms. How wantonly he’d behaved when he knew better.

l always wanted to have a sexy bio, one to reflect who I am, but after drawing a blank, l could only come up with: I eat cake and I read books…ooh, and I write ‘em too. No one liked it and after massive peer-pressure and pouting, I managed something more…suitable?

A Caribbean transplant, Avril now lives in Brooklyn, N.Y with a tolerant Spousal Equivalent. Together they raise an eccentric daughter who loves reading and school (not so much school anymore). Avril’s earliest memories of reading revolve around discussing plot points of The Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys with an equally book-minded mother

Always in love with the written word, Avril finally decided to do the writing in August of ’09 and never looked back. Spicy love scenes, delicious heroes, and wicked women burn up the pages of Avril’s stories, but there’ll always be a happy ending; Av remains a believer of love in all its forms.

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

I'm out and about on Destiny Redeemed's book tour at WordsInSync today, so I've let Laurie Sorensen take over the blog. Please extend a warm welcome to her. She's here to talk about her book, Ravenwood: Night's Salvation. Here's the blurb to get started:Duty, love and passion take flight on the wings of destiny. Compelled by honor and duty, Night Ravenwood leaves the only life he knows to return home after his brother’s death. He’s the new heir to Ravenwood Manor and the Earldom; at home an arranged marriage awaits him with a woman he’s never met. When tragedy strikes the newlywed couple, Night realizes he’s fallen in love with the beautiful Satine, but does she love him in return? Satine vows to make Night see his destiny includes her; meanwhile someone is willing to commit murder to keep them apart. Will love or murder shape the destiny of this love?

Chapter Three

Raven Hall, Night’s town residence.

An endless night of sensual dreams, haunted by a woman he couldn’t identify, left Night questioning his sanity. His surly mood heightened by his restless night, he entered the dining room where Mrs. Latimer, his cook, had prepared a wonderful breakfast for him. Scrambled eggs so light they seemed to float out of the dish, hot scones slathered in butter, and a variety of meats from which to choose. He scowled when he spied one such dish. Kippers. He shivered, trying to imagine why they were even on his table.

Why do they insist on having these nasty, smelly things on my table? Jason loved the damned things, so does my father. I hate kippers.

Night opened the dining room window, picked up the dish of kippers and tossed them out, closing the window after he had done so. Smiling now, he decided to talk to Mrs. Latimer about them. The day seemed to improve slightly since he'd taken control once again, at least of his own breakfast. At the sideboard, he filled a plate with thinly sliced ham, a ladle of eggs and two buttery scones. As Night walked to the table, he bit into one of the scones and closed his eyes while he chewed and swallowed the first bite. Absolutely delicious.

Opening his eyes, Night forked a piece of ham and placed it in his mouth, before he noticed Jarvis had joined him and had placed a sealed letter next to his coffee cup. He didn’t leave as Night expected, instead he stood next to the chair as if he had a ramrod stuck up his back. Night turned to his butler, finished chewing the ham and grinned like a fool.

“Is there a problem?”

If it was possible, Jarvis stiffened even more. “No sir. Not a problem per se.”

Night waited for him to say more but gave up when Jarvis was not forthcoming. “All right, if it's not a problem, what is it, per se?”

“The messenger was told to await a reply, sir.” Jarvis watched as his employer’s eyes darkened and his brow creased.

“Tell the lad to go and fetch some food in the kitchen. It will be some time before I answer.” Night dismissed the butler, and took up the message.

Night hadn't read any of the letters from his father. They had been in the enormous stack of mail that Jarvis had presented him upon his return home. He knew exactly what they contained¾orders to return to his father’s home¾so he’d simply thrown them in the fireplace. The seal on the new message was as clear as the others had been, the family’s crest. Night opened this one and read the short message on the page.

Come HOME.

Nightwalked to the small writing desk against the wall, took up a piece of parchment and wrote one word in response.

YES.

He sprinkled the note with sand to dry the ink, then resealed the letter with his own signet ring. Peering at the sealed message, Night growled in defeat and took the note to the boy waiting in the kitchen.

When he entered the kitchen the boy scrambled to stand, still chewing, and faced the master of the house.

“Please see to it that he is given sufficient food for the return journey home,” Night told his cook, who was hovering in the corner of the kitchen.

“Yes, sir. I'll see to it right away, sir.” Mrs. Latimer hurried to fill a small flour sack with some food for the child.

“When you’ve finished lad, take this message back to my father. God speed.” Night had turned to leave the kitchen when he remembered he wanted to speak to cook about those ridiculous kippers on his table this morning. I’ll talk to her later after the boy has left.

Out in the entry hall, Night took the stairs two at a time, his foul mood no better after answering his father. He searched out Jarvis to pack his trunks. A footman was sent to request the carriage be made ready for departure and to ensure Dumas, Night’s bay stallion, was fed and watered, ready for a journey.

“Jarvis, there you are.” Night saw him as he entered his bedchamber. “I would like you to follow me in the carriage with my trunks please. I'll be riding on Dumas. I need the time alone and Dumas will like the exercise.” Having Dumas at Father’s home will make life there just a bit more manageable.

As he walked down the steps, his horse, Dumas was brought around the corner. The sight of Dumas, a seventeen hand high stallion, black as midnight and completely devoted to his master, had Night grinning like a school boy. He held his hand out to the horse, which Dumas bypassed to butt Night’s shoulder playfully.

Night laughed and gave the animal a sugar cube he had snatched from the kitchen before he patted his neck. “I have missed you too, boy.”

The horse whinnied, shaking his head as if he understood exactly what Night had said.

Night mounted and urged Dumas forward, trotting out the front gate, not looking back. He dreaded facing the inevitable. He'd chosen to ride Dumas for many reasons, most importantly it would give him time to think. Bringing his horse would also make Dumas available to him whenever he chose to ride. The full day’s journey to Ravenwood Manor would give him plenty of time to examine his predicament without intrusion.

***

When Night looked up into the sky, hours later, the sun was almost directly overhead. The ache in his back and the crick in his leg called out for relief. Life on a ship exercised very different muscles than life on land, especially when it came to riding horses.

“Time for a rest, old boy.” He patted Dumas’ neck, though he was reasonably certain his horse didn’t need a rest as much as he did. He moved toward a small stream, pleased to find fresh water for Dumas. While his horse drank, Night sat beneath the largest gnarly oak tree he had ever seen. It reminded him of the oak tree at Ravenwood Manor, the one in front of the house. The happy childhood memory brought a small, fleeting smile.

He looked over at Dumas, who was quite happily munching on the lush grass that grew next to the stream.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be a horse?

No worries, no title and no marriage to a girl he didn’t know. Dumas nudged Night out of his thoughts, indicating they should resume the ride.

He stood, took Dumas’ reins and patted his velvety nose before he slipped the apple out of his pocket and gave it to his very appreciative mount.

“So be it. We shall be on our way.”

Dumas nickered in reply and Night tossed the reins across the huge stallion's back.

He hoisted himself into the saddle and set Dumas to a trot, his thoughts wandering to his ship and the young boy, Jones. My ship, I’ll not be sailing on her again, and this boy, a child really, yet still so eager to please. Have I done the right thing by allowing him to stay aboard?

He had not yet gotten a posting address from the little imp but he'd likely see him at the wedding. Knowing Damon’s untrusting nature he would surely bring the boy with him when he returned for Night's wedding.

Marriage! I am only four and twenty. Why should I have to wed now? And just who is it I’m to marry? “This waiting bride of mine is probably one of those females who doesn’t like sex, leaving me to find pleasure with others. I think siring an heir may be more difficult than anything I have ever had to do.”

Damn Jason’s eyes for dying on me. What right had he to die, leaving me to fulfill his destiny? I’m a second son, of no account. “How I long for the breeze in my face, the sway of the ship and the taste of salt on my lips. I’m a sailor at heart, I’m not really this heir my father insists I am.”

Dumas must have sensed Night’s agitation because he began to move erratically, a clear indication he wasn’t pleased. When he suddenly stopped short, Night was pitched forward. He tried to stop his motion by grabbing Dumas’ mane, but the silky hair slipped through his fingers and he found himself airborne.

The abrupt landing was a cold shock. He found himself waist deep in a muddy pond. When he looked at his damned horse Dumas cocked his head to the side and nickered. Instead of cursing him as he started to do, Night laughed. The bone-deep sadness and apprehension slipped away as he laughed, a deep hearty laugh that blessedly spread all the way through him. He sat in the pond for a long while, laughing and shaking his head. Night finally stood, leaving the laughter behind and waded through the pond to the edge, looked Dumas in the eye, and patted the horse’s neck. “I know. I was brooding, and you didn’t like it. But you certainly put me in my place, now didn’t you?”

Dumas whinnied as if he understood every word, and butted Night’s shoulder, sending him scrambling to regain balance again.

Back in the saddle, Night turned Dumas away from the pond and headed in the direction of his boyhood home. “Let’s just get going. Only a bit further to go and you can have a nice, big bucket of oats.” Night patted the horse and set him to a gallop.

He would arrive in a few hours’ time. What would his father say to him?

***

Almost dry, but rumpled, Night arrived at the entrance gates to Ravenwood Manor. Reluctance held him back for a moment more, his head lowered in dejection and defeat. Here I am for the beginning of my hollow future.

The manor hadn’t changed in the seven years he had been gone. It was still surrounded by a multitude of flowering bushes and the drive was lined with stately maple and oak trees. Crushed seashells paved the way opening onto a circular drive in front of the house. Ivy climbed the walls giving the appearance of a living, breathing entity swallowing the house whole. Night gave Dumas his head and waited until they had reached the front of the house before taking him in hand again.

Dismounting, he looked up at the house. The windows were the only visible parts of the house not covered by the ivy and they gleamed in the sun. The front steps were made of marble and lead to the heavy, oversized oak door that had always been so intimidating to Night as a child. The house was still as imposing as ever. A stable lad appeared to take the reins. As he led the horse away from Night, the boy jumped at the sound of Night’s voice.

“He likes a lump of sugar and an apple while he's being curried. Make sure to give him a full bucket of oats. He's had a long ride today.”

“Aye, sir,” the boy answered and was gone from sight a moment later.

As he mounted the steps a slight movement called his attention and he turned to see a woman, really only a slip of a girl. She was sitting on the stone bench beneath the large oak tree that had been there for as long as Night could remember.

The woman’s back was toward him, but she had the most beautiful hair he'd ever seen. Light hair, so light it was almost white. The pale cascade flowed to her waist, a lovely contrast to the pale blue gown she wore. The plain silver band that circled her head was fashionable in the Highlands and the style of her dress would definitely be considered dowdy among the circles of the London Ton.

Night’s hand rose as if to run his fingers through the woman’s hair, and he felt a tightening in his groin he wouldn't want displayed in mixed company. Catching his thoughts before they wandered where they had no business being, he dropped his hand and pulled his wayward mind back to where it was supposed to be, the present, and his waiting bride.

She must be the daughter of one of Father’s Scottish friends. I bet she is beautiful¾I've never seen a Scottish lass who wasn't.

He smiled and walked through the huge double doors which had swung open on well oiled hinges the moment Night set a foot on the first marble stair. Archibald, his father’s butler for more years than Night had been alive, stood waiting to greet him in the entrance hall. Night’s smile encompassed his entire face at the sight of the old man.

“Archie. It’s good to see you, man.” Night embraced him warmly, not the usual custom for heir and butler but Archibald had often seemed more of a father to him than Jason had ever been.

“I never could get you to call me Archibald, could I, sir? ’Tis unseemly for you to be embracing the help. We have been a very sad household, sir. That will change, now you’re home.”

Night handed Archibald his cloak and gloves. “I know I'm a sight. Dumas dumped me in a pond a few hours ago.” He laughed as he caught Archibald inspecting him from head to toe. “I had been brooding and he let me know he didn’t like it. And as for it being unseemly to embrace the help, since when have I ever been concerned with such frivolous stupidity?”

“I remember that well, sir. As long as you have been alive and able to talk, you have cared very little for the frivolity of courtly life among the aristocracy. Though as a man who has known you since you drew breath for the first time, I feel at liberty to say perhaps you should consider changing that small imperfection in your personage. Would you like to refresh yourself before going to see your father? Do you have a change of clothing with you? I am certain I can freshen up some of Master Jason’s if they are needed.”

Night glanced at his rumpled clothes, still damp in places and very dusty from the extended ride. He smiled at Archibald. “Yes, Archie, I have a change of clothing in my satchel. Thank you. That imperfection as you call it is part of who I am, and I am as likely to change that as I am to grow a purple nose.” Archie harrumphed, shaking his head.

“Please don’t tell Father I am here just yet. Where may I find him after I have changed?”

“He is in the parlor, sir, with Lord Reginald,”

“Thank you, Archie. I'll show myself in when I'm ready.” Night mounted the steps two at a time, taking himself to his old room.

So that creature with the glorious hair must be Lord Reginald’s daughter. All that glorious hair makes my body come awake. Just the thought of having all that hair spread out over the pillows, over me…No, these aren’t the kinds of thoughts I needto have right before I greet father or meet this wife of mine.

In his bedroomNight changed clothes and decided a bath could wait for this evening. He walked down the stairs and found himself back where he had been a few moment before, though Archie was no longer in sight.

Night made his way to the parlor. Hands shaking, he reached out for the door handle only to stop before touching it. Wishing for the entire world that he didn’t need to be here, he sucked in a deep, fortifying breath and he burst inside. “Your long lost son has come home.”

“Night, my boy. It has been too long since we last saw one another.” Lord Reginald stood and walked toward him with his hand outstretched. “I was sorry to hear of Jason’s death. But glad to see you have come home to shoulder the duties that now befall you as heir.”

Night cast a glance toward Reginald. “Thank you for your sympathies, they are greatly appreciated.” He shook hands and then turned away, trying to cover the frustration he believed was visible in his eyes.

“I should never have been the heir, I am the second son. This was for Jason, not me.” Night swiped his hand through his hair before turning back toward the men.

“That may be Night, but things have changed, you know that.” Lord Reginald returned to his seat.

The Earl, Night’s father, had not risen to greet his son, but sat glaring at him. When Lord Reginald turned back to Jason the glare quickly left the Earl's eyes.

“I must be getting back. My Sarah is ready to give birth any day now."

“Yet another birth. How many does this make for you, Reggie?” Night used the familiar nickname with respect.

Lord Reginald laughed, his ample midsection shaking. “This is number twelve. Sarah has told me it will be the last.” He walked to the parlor door. “She so wanted a girl child to spoil. Eleven boys so far¾big strapping boys. Reggie is going to be nine and ten next month. I'm grooming him to be the future Duke.”

Night shook the older man's hand one more time. “Give Lady Sarah my best wishes. I will come by sometime next week to see you both, and hopefully, to congratulate you on yet another fine child, a girl perhaps?”

“That I will, that I will.” Lord Reginald turned toward his friend. “Goodbye, Jason, I expect to see you next week to welcome my child with a celebration.”

“Most certainly. Tell Sarah that Elizabeth is packing as we speak, and will follow you later this very afternoon.” The Earl's brow furrowed as he watched his friend leave the room.

Night’s eyebrow shot up. “Mother is going to Lord Reginald’s home?”

“Yes, she is. If you had been home more often, you would know she goes to help in any way she can when Sarah is this close to, well, Sarah is simply in need of your mother’s assistance.

“I offer my apologies, Father. I have been at sea and have had little time to come home.” He favored his father with a curt bow and followed Lord Reginald who waited for him by the door.

“Try not to be too hard on him, Night.” With that cryptic advice hanging in the air Lord Reginald left the house and disappeared around the corner in search of his driver and carriage.

As the door shut, Night’s mother’s voice floated down the stairs.

“I think just two trunks will do, after all, Christine¼”

Her voice trailed off as she locked gazes with Night. A lump formed in his throat, one he couldn’t rid himself of no matter how much he swallowed. She stopped on the stairs, tears in her beautiful green eyes¾the very same eyes he saw in the mirror each morning.

She brought her hand to her throat as if she were having trouble breathing. “Night, is it really you?”

Night couldn’t help but smile at her small bit of drama. “Yes, Mother, I’m home.” The lump in his throat had firmly embedded itself and he found it difficult to speak clearly.

A moment later his mother was off the stairs and in his arms, tears streaming down her face. “Oh, God, you are home, you really are home.”

Lady Elizabeth finally released him from her fierce hug but she refused to let her hands leave his body. She touched his arms, his face and his shoulders, tears still streaming down her cheeks.

Guilt washed through him. Guilt for not writing, for not coming home for seven years¾but most of all for causing her worry. Night knew his mother loved, missed and worried about him. Yet he had shown no concern for her feelings. He felt profoundly sorry. I will make it up to you somehow, some way. I promise you that, Mother.

His mother drew back, drinking in the sight of him. Clearly it was difficult for her to believe he was really home. “You’re too thin. You need to eat more.” Lady Elizabeth took his arm in hers as he escorted her back into the parlor where his father still sat.

The Earl turned toward them.

“Look Jason. Night has come home again. Isn’t it wonderful?” Lady Elizabeth was all aflutter.

“Yes darling, he is home, and this time to stay.” The Earl looked Night in the eye. Night hung his head in shame, not wishing to meet his father’s eyes.

“Yes Father, Mother, I am here to stay, for a while at least. After the wedding my bride and I will take up residence at Raven Hall.” He regretted his hasty words a moment later seeing the sadness spring back into his mother's eyes. Perhaps I have spoken more sternly than I should.

Lady Elizabeth pulled the cord to ring for tea. “You are here with us now. That is all that matters at the moment. And you've come home in time for tea.”

A few moments later, a servant brought a tray with tea and small lemon cakes, Night’s favorite.

He remembered something the duke had said earlier. Boys, all strapping boys so far.

If the glorious-haired creature was not Lord Reginald’s daughter, then just who the devil was she?

A few moments later, the glorious haired creature herself walked into the parlor and the answer to Night’s question became wonderfully clear. He felt as if he had been punched in the gut, and all his breath stolen from him.

“Satine, I'm glad you joined us, dear. I want you to meet your future husband.” Lady Elizabeth was practically singing with happiness.

Night released the breath he didn’t know he'd been holding, his stomach turned back over and he felt queasy enough to render him speechless.

Surely this could not be the simpering little virgin I'm to marry?

He had been right. She was beautiful¾gloriously, painfully beautiful. Her hair had only hidden how perfectly made she was. Everything about her caused a reaction completely inappropriate in mixed company. His breeches were suddenly much tighter than they had been a moment ago and he was forced to shift position so that the tightness would not be plainly visible to everyone in the room.

Satine’s eyes were a crystal-blue that reminded him of the waters in tropical locations he'd seen on his many travels, and her pale blue gown set them off perfectly. Her skin had a lovely sheen to it, making Satine look pale and soft. She was beyond stunning. Slowly, with shaking knees, he walked toward her, finding the journey across the room difficult in his condition. Satine lowered her eyes and she trembled where she stood.

When he took her hand he discovered her skin was soft as velvet. He was almost afraid he would hurt her. “’Tis a pleasure to meet you, sir.” Satine didn’t raise her eyes to meet his.

“The pleasure is mine, Satine. Please, call me Night,” He’d finally found his voice, though it seemed he had swallowed a frog. No one told me what she looked like. Of course, I never stopped to ask, did I?

She smiled up at him. “Night. It is an unusual name, though I do like it.”

When she smiled, it lit her face from within, making her even more lovely.

Night realized he still had her hand in his and he let it go reluctantly.

I wonder what she will look like naked, lying in the sun on the shore of the lake? He lowered his gaze so she couldn't see his expression. His cock stiffened to a point he couldn’t bear much longer. He excused himself from tea, claiming he was tired and needed a bath after the long ride. His mother started to protest but he swiftly left the room leaving everyone to stare after his retreating form.

Adjusting his breeches, he mounted the stairs thinking that his cock was usually better behaved than this. His bride-to-be seemed to have an amazing effect on him. A soft smile spread across his face.

Night found a hot bath waiting for him in his chamber. After meeting Satine he would really have preferred cold water but hot would have to do.

He bathed quickly and then lay on his bed naked, thinking of her.

She certainly didn’t seem like a simpering fool. Irrational fear of the unknown quite possibly could bring down the world if men such as I continue to imagine things long before we are shown the truth of the matter.

Monday, March 26, 2012

While I write vampires and love them, I also write other paranormal series, including my Destined Ones series. In fact, that series has the first character I ever truly fell in love with. Amon Kalins was the villain in the first book, Stolen Destiny, but in Destiny Redeemed, he comes back as the hero, albeit a bad boy hero.

This week I'm showing my love for Destiny Redeemed with a book tour. Each day I'll be at a different blog talking about the book, the characters, and the concept of my paranormal creations in the Destined Ones series, the Aeveren.

The Aeveren are beings I created after having a dream one night (it's always dreams, isn't it?). They live fifty lives through reincarnation, meaning that my characters can span centuries. They are descended from humans, given the gift of reincarnation by the Archangel Raziel long ago. He also gave them the gift of special powers, such as telepathy, the ability to manipulate time (a power Amon possesses), healing, and even mind control. Some Aeveren have impressive powers, while others only have simpler powers, such as heightened intuition. Finally, Raziel gave his people the gift of destined ones. But having a soul mate is complicated by reincarnation and one can go lifetimes without finding the one meant for them, knowing he or she exists but unable to finally connect until both are in the same lifetime.

In Destiny Redeemed, two of the most powerful Aeveren are the hero and heroine. Amon is in his 47th lifetime and possesses the power to change time. He can move it up, stop it, reverse it...you get the idea. He's not a man to play with. He's been a bad man for many lifetimes, but fate has given him something that may change him. Thea. A healer for the Aeveren people, Thea is in her 45th lifetime. As a healer, her power is a good one, unlike her destined one's. Here's the blurb:

Sentenced to spend the rest of his three remaining lifetimes in Nil, Amon Kalins is freed with the help of his Sidhe servant, Gethen, but now he must accept his life is never to be his again as the Council won't rest until he's safely back imprisoned within Nil's cold walls. Broken and nearly dead from his time in prison, Amon is saved by an Aeveren healer named Althea Forester. As a healer, Thea has served her people for forty-five lifetimes, never having a destined one and always knowing each lifetime would ultimately end with her alone. But destiny hasn't forgotten her.

Drawn to the seductive Amon, Thea quickly becomes a pawn the Council uses to trap him. Taken prisoner by the sadistic leader of the rebel group, the Soren, Thea must survive the vicious world of the people hellbent on taking her destined one away forever, and Amon must risk everything dear to him to free her from those who would sacrifice her to claim the bigger prize and return him to Nil. To find out more about Destiny Redeemed, visit its page on my blog and join me on the tour this week. Hope to see you there!

Friday, March 23, 2012

I'm pleased to welcome author Ella Jade to the blog today. Take it away, Ella!

A Long Time Coming…

My new release Crossfire of Love was a real labor of love for me. It was a long time in the making. Like 22 years in the making. Now, of course I didn't know when I was 16, I'd eventually be an author. I'd always wanted to write, but I could never have dreamed back then that there would be something called the Internet and people would be able to read books on-line. If I had, I'd be in a whole other profession.

What am I talking about? Oh, yes, my new release. Let me go back to the beginning. I've always been intrigued by mob movies, books and real life history. I grew up in South Philadelphia in the early eighties. It was a tight-knit Italian community with lots of mafia activity. Naturally, being the curious girl that I was, I researched as much as I could on the topic. It wasn't as easy as it is today. Again, no Internet, and when a 16 year old girl walked into a library and asked for reference books on organized crime, a few eyebrows were raised. Hey, it was all in the name of research. The writer was born.

I lived for movies like The Godfather, GoodFellas and Once Upon a Time in America, to name a few. To this day, I'll watch anything Robert DeNiro is in. He was probably the first crush I had on a bad boy. And, Martin Scorsese is a genius. Just sayin'.

Here it is, 22 years later and I'm penning my first mafia themed story. There was a reason I was doing all that research, even if I didn't know why back then. Crossfire of Love is ultimately a love story, but it has a mob flair. The story begins when Gabriella is forced into an arranged marriage to Lorenzo, the son of a big NYC crime lord. It seems her father Ace has gotten himself into a bit of trouble with the Don and owes some big money. The head of the family offers him a way out. He'll forgive the debt if Ace's daughter agrees to marry his son. Hmm... I wonder how that will turn out?

I'll leave you with the blurb and excerpt…

Can an arranged marriage lead to love?

Recent college graduate Gabriella has finally married the man of her dreams, the older, charismatic attorney Lorenzo Martinez. She's had a crush on him for as long as she can remember and always imagined they'd one day find their happily ever after. Unfortunately, they enter into a union arranged by their fathers.

Lorenzo is charming, protective, and loyal to his crime lord father Carlo. When Carlo asks Lorenzo to marry Gabriella he jumps at the opportunity. He's been drawn to her for many years and knows by marrying her he's helping to protect her father.

Gabby is resentful and won't be Lorenzo's charity case. But sparks fly and the couple soon gives into their desire, realizing they were meant to be together.

What happens when Carlo's enemies threaten their future? Will someone get caught in the crossfire?

Excerpt

Lorenzo walked up the porch steps, turning to stare at Gabby. “Are you coming, Gabriella?” No one but Lorenzo and his father called her by her full name. She liked when Lorenzo said it. He’d always made it sound so formal and sexy.

These were the first words he had spoken to her since they left the court house. They were married in the chambers of the prestigious Judge John Cartwright. He’d been a family friend of the Martinez’s for many years. He was their go to man whenever they needed something done fast and legally. Well, legal in her new father-in-law's eyes anyway.

She hurried up the steps and followed him inside their new home. It was built within a matter of months after she’d agreed to marry Lorenzo. Carlo wanted them to have their privacy, but he’d also wanted to keep them close. He didn’t trust she’d hold up her end of the bargain and keeping her on the property was the best way to insure she wouldn’t run.

It was silly, really. How could she run from a family like this? They had ties all over the world. There wasn’t any place she could escape to that they wouldn’t know about. She was a woman of her word. She said she would marry Lorenzo and she did. She’d find a way to cope. She always had.

Lorenzo pulled his jacket off, poured himself a scotch and then loosened his tie.

“Would you like a drink?”

“No, thank you,” she said.

Most brides would be dancing the night away and drinking champagne by this point in their wedding night. She didn’t think that was part of Lorenzo’s plan.

“I didn’t think you’d go through with it.” He sipped the amber colored liquid as he looked her over.

“I said I would.”

“I know, but when push actually came to shove, I thought you’d run.”

“You don’t know me that well,” she said. “I don’t run.”

“Good.” He smirked as he put the glass to his lips.

Gabby couldn’t take her eyes away from those lips. She’d never had the pleasure of having them on her own. Judge Cartwright hadn’t asked him to kiss his bride. She hated herself for thinking about him that way.

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Welcome to the 18 & Over Book Blogger Giveaway Hop hosted by Bitten By Paranormal Romance and Getting Naughty Between The Stacks! Beginning at 12:01 March 22 and running through midnight on March 25, you can visit the almost 100 blogs participating for a chance to win some great prizes.

Here at my blog, I'm giving away a $10 Amazon giftcard to one lucky winner. The giveaway is open internationally, so an email is all you need to join in here. The only mandatory entry is that you must leave a comment below containing your email address. But I'd love it if you did the extra entries too! Check out the rafflecopter thing for all the info.

And since this is the 18 & Over Book Blogger Giveaway Hop, here's a sexy taste of my current release, Blood Avenged. Enjoy!

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he growled close to her ear.

In the blink of an eye, his clothes vanished and his naked body, hard and powerful, pressed against her body. She knew she should be frightened. He was a vampire and the words he’d just said were tinged with more than a hint of a threat. She’d felt how sharp his fangs were—fangs that could plunge into her as he proceeded to drink every last drop of her blood and kill her.

She didn’t care.

Desperate to have him inside her, she pulled his mouth to hers and flicked her tongue again over the tip of one fang. In the dark, she was blind to his reaction but every other sense screamed to her that she wouldn’t have to wait a second longer for him to give her what she craved.

With no warning, he thrust into her, filling the empty space completely and taking her breath away. He poured every emotion he had into her—all the rage and sadness at losing Teagan, all the desire and need to have her. With each thrust, it all came pouring out of him.

Sasa held onto his neck, her fingers passionately tugging on his hair, just as soft as she’d imagined. Her legs held him tight around his waist, pulling him closer each time he reared back to plunge into her.

Lost in the sensual rhythm of his fucking, she slowly realized the deep growl he made as he moved his mouth to her neck. From somewhere deep inside him, he groaned her name.

“Sasa.”

His voice sounded full of every emotion she was experiencing. But at its core wasn’t rage or lust but sadness. She wanted to make that sadness disappear. For just a few moments, make him forget his loss like he made her forget the loneliness that had been part of every fiber of her being for so long.

Sasa cradled his head in her arms, feeling the scrape of those razor sharp teeth on her neck. Could she let him do that like she’d let Tatiana do to her mother? Fear bubbled up inside her. Would he take everything from her and leave her empty and for dead?

Almost on their own, the words left her mouth. “Please don’t hurt me.”

Vasilije stopped and lifted his head from her neck. How much she wished she could see his face! With each second that ticked by, she wondered if she’d die there because of what she’d said, in some strange man’s house, a just ending for what had happened there only hours earlier.

He remained silent in front of her, his lips close enough that she felt his warm breath brush her cheek. She had no idea how long they stayed like that, him still inside her, holding her to him, before he carried her to the couch and gently lifted her off him.

Alone on the couch, Sasa felt cold lying there without him, but then he lowered his body down to meet hers and whispered against her lips, “I won’t take what you won’t willingly give.”

A sigh of relief escaped her mouth just as he pressed his lips to hers, softly and almost reverently. The fear that had just been racing through her vanished, replaced by the need to willingly offer him the one thing she desperately yearned to give. Herself.

Again, he slid into her joining them as one, but he was different now. Sasa felt a gentleness from him as what had begun as something raw eased into something sweeter shared between the two of them.

Her hands stroked the soft skin of his back, up and down from the tightened muscles just above his waist to the space between his broad shoulders. His body felt like a silken piece of art under her fingertips. With every thrust into her welcoming body, she worshipped him with her hands.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

I've been putting the wraps on Blood Betrayed the past few days, but in my spare moments I stop over at FB, particularly the erotic authors and bloggers group I belong to, for some writing inspiration. The pics rarely fail to deliver that inspiration, and I can't thank those authors and bloggers enough for the eye candy. Delicious! (Now I wish I hadn't taken down the adult warning on the blog.)

When I write in my other genre as my other pen name, I don't really have to write graphic sex scenes. True, they occasionally come up, but it's not a requirement. If it fits, I write it, but in my romance stories, it's expected since I don't write the sweet stuff. (My mind's too dirty to write the sweet stuff. ;) My books are erotic romance, so there must be sex and the steamier the better it seems, if the comments readers make are any indication.

In my current release, Blood Avenged, there's a scene where I walked a very fine line with Vasilije and Sasa. He's learned of something she's done and has come to kill her. He's a vampire, and unlike other sweeter, twinkly vampires, Vasilije will kill. The fact that he has feelings for Sasa is immaterial. She's crossed him. But she affects him in a way that no other woman has for centuries, so his desire to exact his revenge is met by another desire.

The scene is gritty--and one I was worried wouldn't work for some readers. And it's a long scene, taking up an entire chapter from his point of view and then moving into her point of view for an entire chapter. I generally don't use up that much space with foreplay and the act of sex, but this was different. In many ways, those two chapters show Vasilije more clearly than any others in the book.

I bring this up because while I love those two chapters for their emotion and dark grittiness, I wasn't sure readers would, and it was only on the repeated advice of my editor that I didn't touch those pages and left them as I originally intended. A few reviewers have commented that they didn't like the scene (but in truth, they didn't like Vasilije, overall. I think that says more about their taste in men than the book itself, though.), but in a recent review, the reviewer mentioned the scene as one of her favorites. She seemed to misunderstand other parts of the book, but I was pleased she saw the scene for what it was.

Sex can be a difficult thing to write sometimes, especially if your characters aren't working with you or you're working against them and their natures. The sex scenes in Blood Avenged weren't difficult because I knew exactly what kind of characters Vasilije and Sasa were and I wasn't afraid to let them be who they are. I knew there was a chance that readers wouldn't want them to act like they did, but that was a chance as an author I needed to take to make the story what I wanted it to be.

Monday, March 19, 2012

What a nice surprise to find out late Friday afternoon that Vampire Dreams, the book that began it all for me last June, is a nominee for Best Erotic-Historical Fantasy/Paranormal Book of 2011 at The Romance Reviews! Very cool. :) Voting runs until the end of this month, so head on over to see all the books in the numerous categories and vote for your favorites.

Vampire Dreams was an idea I had from a dream one night (I actually dreamt the entire first scene of the book). When I woke up, I wrote down what I remembered and from there I just began writing the story. The first in The Victorian Erotic Romance Trilogy, it features Vasilije, who now has his own book, Blood Avenged, in my new Sons of Navarus series.

And congratulations to Crystal, who was the winner in my St. Patrick's Day Giveaway Hop. Thanks to everyone who stopped by for the giveaway, and as you can see in the left sidebar, there are lots more coming up, so be sure to stop by again!

Friday, March 16, 2012

Welcome to my stop on the St. Patrick's Day Blog Hop! I'm Irish from my father's side (he was 100% Irish and proud of it), so I've always been a huge fan of St. Patrick's Day. I'm very proud of my Irish heritage. While my mother was English and Welsh, I always felt more in tune with my Irish side since I have naturally red hair and very pale skin with freckles (my mother used to call it "peaches and cream" skin).

Here are some of my favorite Irish sayings and blessings. To me, they say so much about the Irish people.

A face without freckles is like a sky without stars. (Love that one!)

You can't kiss an Irish girl unexpectedly. You can only kiss her sooner than she thought you would.

May the road rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back,
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
May the rains fall soft upon your fields,
And, until we meet again,
May God hold you in the hollow of His hand.

To celebrate St. Patrick's Day, I'm giving away a signed paperback copy of Blood Avenged and swag to one lucky winner. Only one thing is mandatory to enter: just leave a comment with your email address. However, you may complete as many extra entries as you like. Readers who follow me on Twitter are already able to get an extra entry. Just use the Rafflecopter thing to complete your entries and you're in like Flynn!

The giveaway lasts just one day, so it will run from 12:00 am on Friday, March 16 to 11:59 that night. It's open to international readers too, so everyone is eligible to win. I will use random.org to choose the winner and inform them of their prize through email after the giveaway has ended.

In addition, there are two GRAND PRIZES:
Grand Prize 1: Winner's Choice of a Kindle Fire or Nook Tablet
Grand Prize 2: Winner's Choice of a $90 Amazon or Barnes&Noble Gift Card

So you as a reader - what do you have to do? Well, visit all the participating websites on Friday, March 16th and comment on as many as you want. The grand prize winners will be chosen at random from the commenters - meaning you can comment on EACH blog - meaning 120 entries to the grand prize.